Sunday

知音識趣: Kindred Spirits

Hey all,

Alas, Christmas has come and gone. A belated Merry Christmas to you all, especially those of you who celebrate it.

I had given you my word two weeks ago that I would post, on Christmas, a video of me playing the guitar to this very blog. Well, as fate would have it, I was unable to post the video. Not having permission to upload photo or video content from the computer lab and falling ill with a fever impeded me from fulfilling that promise: for that I am sorry.

This news will undoubtedly come as a relief to a select few (or a great many) among you, to whom I issue a gentle warning to remain vigilant: someone has yet to formally forbid me (in writing via petition) from continuing to play the guitar, and the guitar itself is still in working order, so in reading this blog you run the risk of seeing a video of me playing guitar. You may even see two. Be warned.

Christmas was sad for me. I can now speak from experience when I say that spending Christmas away from family, utterly alone and sick in bed is not as pleasant as some might make it sound. It may even be dangerous, should you run out of instant noodles, or should tuna and carrots in oyster sauce over rice cease to pique your appetite.

If, like you or my mom, you are a fan of post-Bolshevik Russo-American identity, collecting sponges, collecting empty boxes, America, philosophy, beauty, or life, let me suggest checking out Maira Kalman: I was given one of her books for Christmas, and she's pretty wonderful.

My reading of Thoreau has been very interesting: I won't go into minutae on how I feel about every aspect of Walden, but I would simply like to say, without attempting to speak in too general of terms, that 89.3% of it is worth reading.

I have recently taken to re-copying texts that I appreciate. This is an undertaking that brings me great joy: writing and reading can feel so different from one another, and re-copying reconciles the differences in a way nothing else ever has for me. This is a process that began when I started learning Chinese and had to copy a character thirty times over before starting to get the hang of it. It was reinforced last year when a French Literature professor, M. Francalanza, suggested that I take excerpts from notable French authors, copy them over and read them aloud in the presence of an authority that could correct me on pronunciation. I continue to do both, taking great relish in what I consider to be a modern appropriation of 'outdated' pedagogical technique.

One could make the argument that Henry David Thoreau is both the most cited and most unknown writers in the American canon. It is thus with extreme caution that I venture to post an excerpt of Walden. I do it not to sever the text from its context, effectively decapitating the work in its entirety, but instead to attempt to render it all the more evident that the great fingers and toes of wisdom floating through the American consciousness on tea bags and moleskine covers, particularly the digits of Thoreau, were once joined to hands and feet, limbs and a whole that are no less significant.

Reading Thoreau last night, I stumbled upon a text that intrigued me on a very intimate scale: he had described, albeit rather briefly, a tender friendship that can exist between two individuals. This understanding between coupled spirits fascinates me to no end. The phenomenon of a non-romantic love exists across cultures and is often considered the pinnacle of human communication. In English, we have the term 'kindred spirits', in French, one seeks the 'âme sœur', or 'sister soul'. My favorite, and the expression with which I am least familiar, is '知音識趣' 'zhi1 yin1 shi2 qu4'; a Chinese idiom that apparently alludes to the harmonic aspect of true understanding: playing the same tune, being on the same page. This concept is at the front of my mind when deep in discussion, contemplating life, and especially when playing my guitar.

The Thoreau text I have re-copied does a little bit of justice to friendship, and it is on that note that I share it with you.

Ben

PS: If anyone knows anything or has any more information about "zhiyin shiqu", please let me know! I'm really eager to learn more about it first hand, reading Chinese lit, but that probably won't be for another three years or so...

6 comments:

r said...

i want to see a video of you playing the guitar!

bensdad said...

Hey Benno,
Sorry you were sick at Christmas. I missed wandering in Chinatown, remembering that it was the one day we could always find a parking place. Maybe next year we can share gai mei bow and some hot tea, and visit the barber in Waverly Alley.
I will enjoy hearing you play guitar, but also your review of "Three Cups of Tea".
Love, Dad

simone said...

oh no! so sorry you were sick on such a day while in FRANCE of all places--such strong christmas traditions there. sounds like you received some thoughtful gifts--even from far away, family comes through. that's so nice. (i love maira kalman, and collecting empty paper egg cartons.) cheers to a good new year to you!

simone said...

ps: the books looks wonderful. she is so great--i totally get her sensibilities, like they're my own.

bhair said...

Steve: I'm on it!

Dad: Gaimeibao and tea sounds good, consider it a date.

Simone: I read Maira Kalman's children's books (Max the dog!) as a wee one, and I love that she's still around doing her thing. It's one thing to enjoy something and another thing entirely to appreciate it - I feel that I'm just now beginning to appreciate her stuff. She totally shares your sensibilities, judging from the little I know about you and her! I know she totally speaks to my mom and me.

gail said...

ben,
so glad you liked the book!
that's true - you introduced me
to her - and uncertainty is certain!
happy 2010 to you!!!